


Silk

by Ringshadow



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Frenemies, Justin is in denial, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, it's complicated okay, messed up relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ringshadow/pseuds/Ringshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin Hammer and Tony Stark hook up sometimes and it's complicated.</p>
<p>"Pick a safe word."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk

It’s just another trade show. Justin Hammer’s been to so many they all bleed together, the details fading into obscurity. If you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all and it only matters what he’s there to show off. This one’s a domestic show, no weaponry, so he’s brought out the other side of Hammer Industries. Yeah he’s a DoD contractor but the domestics keep the lights on, and he pulls all the stops, and it would be just another show.

Except Tony Stark is in attendance, with Stark Industries, doing the exact same thing.

And Justin really hadn’t seen Stark since the expo that had gone so, so horribly awry for them both. So now he’s feeling a curious combination of worry and anticipation, wondering if he’ll be ignored again and not sure if he wants to actually be noticed.

So now he’s at the bar in the hotel attached to the trade show, chatting up a lovely blonde woman who couldn’t follow anything he wants to talk about so he’s settled on just discussing recent news. He generally has no problem getting laid, he’s rich enough that he had a never-ending parade of slightly over-made generally blonde beauties hoping to get into his shorts in hopes of seeing how deep his wallet is. He entertains them because hey, he’s a guy, he has needs, but never keeps them more than a night. Trust no one is something he learned the hard way, again and again.

“Oh, please, couldn’t you do better than that? You don’t know where it’s been.”

Justin quelled the cringe at Tony Stark’s voice ringing too-loud in the bar, but smiled a little too because while a few people laugh, even the girl, Tony hadn’t been insulting Justin’s half of the equation. “Do you actually want something Stark or are you just here to be a cock block?”

“Both.” Tony’s flippant, walking over carrying a bottle of water and drinking some of it down, fixing both Justin and the girl with a stare in turn. Justin said nothing for a moment beyond clearing his throat awkwardly, because the girl obviously fawns in Tony’s general direction, and because he’s got his own … rather visceral reasons to be uncomfortable about having his business rival so close. “You could do better.”

Again, the double speak of sorts. Justin wanted to snap at him, frustrated, because nothing’s been between them but sniping words since Stark came back from his unintended stay in Afghanistan. And he’s never known how to feel about that, he should be glad it stopped not upset, but upset he had been when he’d been so, so blatantly ignored and it’d only fueled what had happened with Vanko.

“Are you making an offer?” The girl simpered. Justin didn’t even remember her name, and frankly didn’t give a shit either.

“Nope.” Tony gave her a flat stare. “I like plastic in my toys, not my women.” That had the effect Tony was apparently going for because the girl flounced off in a huff, leaving Justin trying not to squirm under Tony’s gaze. “What, Hammer, cat got your tongue?”

“Pft, no, just wondering when I became worth the time of day again.” He snorted, leaning back on the bar.

  
“You really need a better standard in dates.” Tony leaned forward on the bar, resting the bottle of water there.

  
“Hmph, really, since when do you give a damn?”

  
“People touching what’s mine always concerns me.” It was a mutter, barely there, but it made Justin go utterly still, and Tony slid his eyes sideways to look at him. “What’s your room number?”

  
Oh shit. SHIT. He’s not sure if he’s elated or nauseous or panicking. “Uh. 416.”

  
“Be there at ten.” Then Tony Stark was pushing away from the bar, walking away without waiting for acknowledgment.

  
“Uh, okay.” He said finally to the other man’s retreating back, knowing it’s a lame response to what just happened, having to put down his drink as his hands trembled.

 

None of it had been intended. It had been years ago, and they’d been drunk, and arguing, and somehow they’d argued all the way down the hotel hallway and back again, and somehow the argument had turned into some kind of drunken lucid brainstorming out loud, and somehow Tony had been pushing him back against his own hotel room door, pressing a kiss that was far too talented for the level of inebriation going on to Justin’s mouth while muttering at him to unlock the door before they got caught. And he’d been protesting the whole time that he was straight, but denying it the whole time had just added a level to how hot it’d been. He’d woke up alone and strangely sore and confused and self-doubting.

  
But no self-identity crisis came. Except if he and Stark got in the same room alone together then it was inevitable he’d be shoved against the nearest flat surface and fucked halfway to oblivion. It had just kept happening, and each time he’d tell himself never again, and it always happened again. By the third time safe words came into play because Stark had figured out that he liked saying no, but it didn’t mean stop. Not anymore.

  
He was straight. He was. Just... exceptions to every rule, right? That’s what he told himself anyway, in his own mental contortions about it all.

  
This hadn’t happened since before Iron Man, and frankly he’d figured it was done.

  
But, at ten that night, there’s a knock on his door, and Tony’s on him the second he opens the door, shoving him back then kicking the door closed behind him, grabbing his tie to pull him in and just stare at him.

  
“Well. Hello to you too.” Justin half-glared. “I figured this was over, you know. After the expo and that shit that happened in New York.”

  
“I had some things to think about.” Tony is utterly deadpan, not letting go of Justin’s tie. “Why? Miss me?”

  
“No.” He snapped, too fast.

  
“Liar.” He smirked a bit and let go when Justin sputtered and yanked away, letting the tie slip between his fingers, pulling it out of Justin’s vest in the process. “Say your piece so we can get down to business, Hammer.”

  
“Since when is this business?” Justin demanded, stepping back and waving his arms a bit in irritation. “I’ve never even known what... this... is, just that it’s inevitable as the goddamn tides when I’m around you!”

  
“Are we really back to this song and dance?” He wandered by deliberately, raiding the bar in Justin’s room. “Want a drink?”

  
“NO! The last thing I need to be around you is drunk! And aren’t you dating your CEO?” Who got me arrested, Justin fumed to himself. Not that he hadn’t arguably deserved it and he’d been fucking lucky to be able to make his own bail within hours and escape the whole thing pleading ignorance and that he’d gotten played. Not untrue in its own ways. He’d never wanted that destruction, never wanted anyone to get hurt. He’d been looking for an industrial victory, something to finally give his company a leg up over the overwhelming generations-long domination of STARK, to kill the still-looming shadow of STARK even though Tony had already quit making weapons.

  
Played in his own game, made a fool by a Russian criminal.

  
“Yes.” Tony now had a few fingers of bourbon, leaning back against the bar and watching him with strange sharp eyes. “She knows about this, has for years.”

  
“What.” That brought him up short, totally dismayed.

  
“Yeah, you heard me. She threatened to have me steam cleaned.” He snorted and sipped his booze. “As it was I had to get tested because she thinks you’re certain to have something.”

  
“Oh my god.” He put his head in his hands. “Like I’m that stupid.”

  
“I know that and you know that. You’ve always over-thought this though.”

  
“I, what, how? You’re my goddamn competitor and I’m straight, I think I’m allowed to over-think this!”

  
Tony rolled his eyes and drained the glass, setting it down on the bar with a neat click. “Fact: sexuality is not a matter of hard settings where you’re born with your jumpers installed a certain way, sexuality is a gray scale and the majority of people are flexible. You like women. You prefer women. You also come your brains out when I pound you silly.” He smirked as Justin nearly choked on his own spit. “Fact: you can spend the rest of your life hopelessly fomenting in denial, or you can accept that, and one’s a lot more fun than the other.” He pushed away from the bar and pulled his tie loose, prowling over and watching Justin scramble backwards, herding him toward the bed deliberately. “Fact: I give you epic shit in public, but I tend to do that to people I like.”

  
“Wha-what...” Justin wasn’t even paying attention to where he was going, just madly backing away and yelping when the back of his legs hit the bed, overbalancing backwards and sitting roughly on the bed, hand automatically coming up to fix his glasses which had jostled in the fall.

  
Just that fast, Tony was on top of him, grabbing his tie again and dragging him forward, standing between Justin’s splayed legs and leaning down so they were face to face, noses nearly touching. “The arc reactor is off limits to you, just like your glasses are to me.” His voice was heavy and intense, carrying a gravity Justin rarely heard from the other man.

  
Justin swallowed hard, shivering. “Understood.”

  
“Pick a safe word.”

  
“Stark…” One last feeble protest that he had to register, had to fight this somehow.

  
The hand yanked his tie tighter around the collar of his shirt. “Pick. A. Safe. Word. Or I swear I am walking straight out that door and you’ll have to pick up pool boys to try to sate what you need.”

  
“I hate you.” Justin sounded exhausted even to his own ears.

  
Tony’s hand on his tie eased back. “Yeah, I know.”

  
“Silk.” The word barely left his lips before Tony’s mouth closed on his, and for once it wasn’t hard, wasn’t rough, but it was demanding and he whimpered near-silently because god fucking dammit, Tony’s whoring around had made him really good at this, and he caved like always and tilted his head to meet it properly.

  
They had some old rhythms and fell into them without even thinking about it, getting each other’s ties off, Justin kicking out of his shoes as Tony toed out of his, then Tony was in Justin’s lap, straddling over him and pressing harder into the kiss, hands gripping his cream-colored vest. He swallowed the moan, refused to let it out because it was suddenly clear just how much Stark had changed, he was heavier, firmer, harder. Tony had always been skinny, always been fit but now it was different, there was clear muscle pressing against him. His fingers found Tony’s shirt buttons, working down them and sneaking touches of skin as the shirt opened, then jerking his fingers back as if burned when he suddenly felt warm metal.

  
Tony broke the kiss and leaned back to look at him, frowning a bit when Justin’s eyes inevitably locked onto the circular glowing beacon embedded there, hands hovering uncertainly, remembering the warning. Tony never touched his glasses, not after they’d gotten knocked off once and Justin had utterly melted down because he was functionally blind without them and he hated the feeling of vulnerability that came with not being able to see, so he’d honor Tony’s provision on the reactor, but he’d never seen it, not in person, only the glimpses the media allowed through clothing. And the math tumbled through his head, looking at the light, narrowing his eyes.

  
“Vibranium?” Justin finally said, looking up to meet Tony’s eyes.

  
Tony quirked an eyebrow, expression softening. “Yeah, actually.”

  
“You synthesized this?” He leveled a finger at it. “I mean it’s activated, so it wasn’t mined. What kind of dose is this thing putting out?”

  
“About like two pacemakers. Some of it’s neutron of course, I have a card dosimeter in my wallet to help track it.” He got Justin’s vest undone then started in on his shirt.

  
“I don’t remember any papers coming out, did you rent an accelerator?” Justin was trying to figure out what particle accelerator would be best for the job, and what alloy Tony had started with to pull it off.

  
“I built one in my house.”

  
That made him stop again, just gaping at Tony. “You, you… Why does that not surprise me at all?” His laugh was almost giddy and cut off by their mouths smashing together again, and this time it was hard, it was rough, and Justin fell back on the bed as Tony pushed him down. Clothes flew the rest of the way off then talented genius hands were stroking down his body, tracing old scars from the workshop, one landing on the old one on the outer edge of his hip. It was a long cut, from when a shop press had failed and sent shrapnel flying in multiple directions, one piece winging him and cutting him open. It’d bled profusely, and even with him desperately keeping pressure on it as the ambulance arrived he’d needed blood and sixty-three stitches (he’d never forget the number).

  
Now it was just an old faded line and in a fit of drunkenness some years ago in New Orleans, he’d had both sides of it tattooed with little rivets. Most of the women he took to bed hated it, hated the scars that peppered his forearms, his body, the signs that he actually worked for a living, spent far more time in his personal shop than most realized. Tony treated them with reverence and respect, and seemed to like the one on his hip because his fingers were tickling along it now, making him laugh into the kiss then break it to gasp when the shorter man shifted and their hard cocks made contact.

  
Tony just smirked and ducked down, sinking his teeth into Justin’s neck and sucking hard just at the line where his shirt collars would fall, just barely hidden and grabbing Justin’s wrists, yanking them above his head and pinning them to the bed with one hand. Justin squirmed, arms tugging against the grip and eyes going wide because yeah that was a lot more strength than before and it made his skin prickle and his cock twitch, his mind sinking into that familiar space of loving it and hating that he did.

  
“Stop over-thinking…” Tony’s voice was singsong against his skin, tongue lapping out to caress over the livid bruise he’d just left, other hand going down to grip them together and hold.

  
“No, no no no no no…” He gritted it out through his teeth, can’t say yes, can’t admit he likes it even as his hips pushed into it, even as he refused to safe word because please god yes.

  
“I don’t hear a safe word…” Still the teasing voice tone as Stark heckled a bruise into the other side of his neck to make it a matched set, stroking them and doing something with his thumb that made Justin’s head lull back and toes curl.

  
_Smug egotistic jackass._ “Like I’d willingly admit anything to you.” He barely got the words out, nearly choking on his own tongue as the stroking continued, fucking hell why was that so intense…

  
“Someone’s sensitive and I haven’t even done anything good yet.” He tutted then pulled back, looking at Justin’s blown eyes and conflicted-as-usual expression before grinning and pushing away. “Move, center of the bed, grab the headboard.”

  
“Oh hell no…!” He squeaked to a halt when his hair was grabbed and yanked so he was forced to meet Tony’s eyes, his own going wide.

  
“I promise you I’ll make it worth your while.”

  
Justin swallowed slowly, and once Tony moved, he did, tearing the bed down and flopping back, shaking as he put his hands against the headboard because this was new, watching Tony dip on the floor and rummage in the pockets of his jacket then grab their ties off the floor. Where this was going hit him very fast and he had to keep his hips from arching off the bed in sheer anticipation.

  
“You’re a kinky little shit you know that?” Tony crawled back onto the bed and straddled his chest, using the ties to secure his wrists to a bar of the headboard. “Okay? Test them.”

  
He did, tugging carefully and realizing he could slip them if he really wanted to, that he wasn’t trapped if he didn’t want to be, the tie was carefully rigged so he had to be a player in this game and he relaxed his arms against it, blushing furiously and hating it. “No one else ever sees me like this.” It’s an admission, a sliver of truth in their fucked up little game.

  
“Yeah, I know.”

  
When it had all began he’d tried to shut his eyes but he’d ended up giving up, he hates not being able to see and he ended up levering up as best he can to watch Tony work down his body, feet scrambling on the bed once when he saw the packets of lube and condoms sitting on the bed (condoms, plural, oh fuck oh god) but lulled again by Tony marking his skin up, leaving a line of little hickeys then lapping over the scar on his hip.

  
He doesn’t know why he says it, he’s never admitted a thing before, not verbally anyway, maybe it’s because of how long it’s been or how much he missed this or how much he’d freaked out deep inside while waiting to make bail because he’d nearly gotten Tony killed, but something fragile snapped and the word got out. “Please.”

  
Tony froze and looked up at him, looking up at him like he honestly hadn’t been expecting that and hell Justin hadn’t either and he’s terrified for a split second that he just fucked up irrevocably then the reset button was neatly reset on his brain when Tony responded by swallowing him to the goddamn root in one go.

  
“Holy shit Jesus H Christ!” He nearly shouted it, arching off the bed and getting his ass slapped for his trouble, panting raw because shit did Stark have any gag reflex at all. He nearly missed the slick fingers massaging against him until one started working inside him, stealing any words he would have had. He’d debated buying toys, debated dressing down and hitting clubs to try to pick up a guy, debated even touching himself and he’d tried but it wasn’t the same, could never get the same feeling from his own hands so why even bother trying anything else and his head fell back with a relieved whimper.

  
Tony pulled off of him, bit the sharp line of his hip, muffled his words there. “Fucking god, Justin, you’re going to break my finger.”

  
Justin stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment, trying to relax and managing to, just a little, then helplessly tensing again when the finger inside him rocked. He shifted his arms so instead of falling on either side of his head his forearms were pressed together above him, hiding his face and whimpering things he really, really couldn’t have heard there as he slowly, slowly opened up. Then it was two fingers, curling in a clever way and turning his vision into a fireworks show, glasses fogging solid, not realizing Tony had moved until his arms were being pushed out of the way and his mouth was claimed again. This time he shoved up into it, kissed desperately and moaned as their tongues tangled up, whimpering because he wants to come, wants to come so bad and knows it won’t happen until they’re fucking. “Stark…” It’s muffled into the kiss, hips hitching with the movement of his hand, the closest he can let himself come to begging because he has some dignity thank you. He’s rewarded with three fingers, opening him wider than he’s been in years. “You going to stop teasing me anytime soon?”

  
“Well aren’t we demanding all the sudden…” Tony had a hand braced beside his head, shifting and staring down at him, and Justin felt a thrill because Tony looked wrecked, open and honest and eyes bright with desire, and he did that. So for the sake of an experiment, he lifted his legs and wrapped them around Tony, pressed his heels into the top of his ass and grinning when Tony’s eyes slid to half mast. “Decide to stop denying it?”

  
“What does it take to make you shut up and get on with it?!” Justin wailed in frustration.

  
“Say please.”

  
“FUCK YOU!”

  
Tony laughed out loud and kissed him, messy and mostly tongue and teeth, before backing off to speak again, fingers slipping free. “Close enough.” The crinkle of foil made his arms jerk against the bonds holding him, whimpering when he realized Tony was going to stare him right in the eye as it happened, keep him in the moment, then blunt thick heat was opening him up and he was arching his back against the mindless perfection of it. “Ohh, you did miss this…”

  
“Hate you so much.” He said it through gritted teeth even as he crossed his ankles behind Tony’s back, even as his eyes rolled back at the feeling of being so, so full. “Move. Waited long enough. Sick of waiting.”

  
“You’re hot when you’re impatient…” He shifted up, bracing his hands on the headboard and just staying ground against him, feeling too-tight muscles shiver and grip at him and smirking when Justin snarled and writhed against him, rolling his hips insistently. And fucking hell if this wasn’t when Justin looked best, when he was wanton like this so Tony started moving.

  
“Ah…” He bit his tongue to keep from immediately singing praises, moving with Tony and arching more and jolting full body when his prostate was grazed. “Fuck!” Justin whined, then snarled when the next thrust missed in a very deliberate way. “I swear to fucking god!” His moves got more desperate, trying to re-angle and Tony moved and grabbed his hips in response, pinned him to the bed and hitting on target several times in a row, enough that his breath was coming in sobs and he was going to come, yes, please, not even being touched, and… Tony shifted and missed again. “No no no, you asshole, no no…”

  
“What, you think I’m going to let you come this early in?” Tony’s hips snapped hard, and Justin nearly screamed his frustration.

  
“Evil!” Justin accused, panting hard and staring up at him accusingly. He was leaking all over his stomach, aching and twitching.

  
“You could beg me.” It was all too innocent sounding.

  
“Pick up a new kink?” Justin demanded, looking away and schooling his breathing.

  
“Or maybe I just want to know what you want.” Tony ground against him, grunting when Justin tightened down on him like a vice, hands keeping them pinned together.

  
He squirmed, arched, tried to get leverage, pushed off the headboard, and was held resolutely, held a few desperate half breaths from coming, knowing he could safe word and stop the whole thing but god, being held like this was so fucking hot, was going to be in his dreams for months, and after thirty seconds of tortuous stillness his willpower snapped like a twig. “Please! Please please FUCK PLEASE move, move, come on fuck me already…”

  
“Details, my man, tell me how you want it…” But he was rewarded by slow sways of Tony’s hips, too slow and gentle and he sobbed helplessly.

  
“Hard. Hard, fast, pound me numb, need to come, so bad, so bad…” He bit his lip, too desperate to be ashamed, to think about what he was saying, to deny a single goddamn thing anymore. And to his shock, he learned that apparently if he wanted something all he had to do was ask because Tony’s next thrust was punishing, fast, right on target. “Yes!” He wailed it, and Tony swept down and kissed him for his troubles, deep and dirty, tongue sweeping his mouth as his hips slammed. He twisted his arms and got his hands free from the ties, tossing his arms around Tony’s shoulders and scratching his fingernails down his back desperately, let Tony swallow all the noises he was making. The constant strike and slide of hot throbbing flesh over his prostate was as wonderful as it was nearly painful as it was toe curling, whole body jerking with each thrust. Tony was groaning and growling, arching into the nails scratching into his back.

  
Justin’s orgasm caught him entirely off guard, locking up tight and clutching Tony, eyes rolling back to nearly solid white as he came without being touched at all. Tony broke the kiss and reached back, grabbed the back of his thighs and nearly folded him in half, thrusts getting even more punishing as Justin’s body relaxed open and took it. It hurt, in a weird way, like someone touching a new tattoo, equal parts good and pain and he only moaned and accepted it, each strike to his prostate squeezing another drip of come from him and whining in relief when Tony slammed deep and came, groaning his name loud in a suddenly otherwise silent room, head tilting back.

  
Totally lost in hazy, fuzzy pleasure, gasping for breath and his pulse thundering in his ears, he nearly missed Tony slumping on top of him, ignoring the mess they’d made and just going limp there. He shuddered and wrapped his arms back around him, letting his legs slide down and bowing his head slightly to tuck into sweaty dark curls of hair. It seemed far too soft and intimate, and he couldn’t even be bothered to care because Justin was pretty sure he just got ruined for life.

  
Eventually, he’d started to doze and Tony pushed up and away. Justin just rolled and closed his eyes. He was sore and tired, cleaning up could wait a while, after he’d slept some, listening for the telltale shuffle of cloth that was the sound of someone getting dressed but instead surprised when tony rolled back onto to the bed, tucked up to his back and wiped him down with a warm washcloth.

  
“Since when do you stay the night?” He wanted to know, not moving when Tony spooned against him and pulled one of the sheets up.

  
“Shut up.” Tony mumbled into the back of his neck.

  
“… Okay, then.” He mumbled back, and laced one of his arms over Tony’s to keep him there, falling into a deep content slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> Before anyone yells at me: this is NOT dubcon, Justin just gets off a bit on saying no.


End file.
